How it all Began
by Goldenbrook15
Summary: She was a woman with nothing to lose. He was a man who had everything but happiness. They were never supposed to meet . . . until they did. (Written for SpyFest 2017, week 4)


**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

 **I participated in SpyFest last year and absolutely loved it . . . when I found it again today I knew that I had to enter at least one story. So, yes, my verdict that I am leaving Fanfiction still stands, and I really shouldn't be doing any new stories, but this just had to be written.**

 **I, literally, wrote this in about three hours. Lets hope its good enough.**

 **I hope that you all enjoy it!**

 **How it all Began**

Helen Beckett, twenty four years old and still single, walked despondently along the side of the street. The light drizzle splattering her and the colorless ground around her matched her mood perfectly and the folder she clutched to her chest became slightly damp as she failed to protect it from the rain.

Another day, another job interview, and another rejection.

Helen sighed and glanced up at the sky, blinking away salty tears as she contemplated the dark grey clouds overhead. The people around her swerved out of her way, taking into cell phones with large, black umbrellas hovering over their heads and uncaring of her plight. Slowing to a stop she let her eyes wander over the desolate apartment buildings around her, and the ongoing traffic of people in suits despite the weather.

White fingers tightened around the manila folder and with a frustrated grunt she roughly rubbed away the tears from her eyes. Brow hair, turned darker from the damp rain, plastered against her forehead and cheeks.

"It's fine," she growled, "Everyone goes through this. I just have to be strong enough to pull through."

Of course she knew that this would happen to her at some point, she had just hoped that it would be later in life.

Two months ago her parents died in a car crash.

Three weeks ago her carefully acquired savings vanished, and she was left the victim of an identity thief with no hope of getting anything back.

Two weeks ago she pulled out of collage, unable to pay for her last semester.

And, worst of all, she still hadn't found a job after her last one fired her when she was framed by one of her coworkers for starting a fire in the storage room.

Gritting her teeth, Helen turned abruptly to cross the road . . . and nearly fell over the bonnet of a black car, which was crawling quietly along the street, close to the sidewalk.

"Oh!" she gasped, dancing backwards on nimble feet, and then promptly tripping over the curb. A cry of alarm ripped from her as she started to fall backwards, bracing herself for impact.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around her, stopping her from hitting the ground, and Helen blinked up at her savior with surprise. The first thing she noticed was his blue eyes. The deep blue seemed endless, and filled with concern. The second thing she saw as her eyes flicked upward happened to be his blinding, bright blond hair.

"Are you alright, Miss?" a deep voice rumbled as she was settled back on her feet, and Helen suddenly blushed as she realized that it was the man who caught her.

"I-I-y-yes?" it came out more of a question than a statement, but at the moment Helen couldn't concentrate.

The man looked her up and down with a frown, and then sighed and shook his head.

"You're soaked to the bone. Here," he turned and reached into the black car that she had almost tripped over, and she suddenly realized that it was _his_ car. Reaching in, he silently pulled out a large, dark grey umbrella and opened it. Then he handed it to her with a smile. "You look like you need it more than I do."

Helen seemed to have lost all thought as she reached out and grasped the handle of the umbrella, blinking at the man. With a smile and the tipping of his hat, the man slipped back into his car. The door closed with a soft pop and the car slowly drove away.

She didn't move until it was out of sight, still dazed. As it turned the corner she suddenly blinked and realized something.

She never said thank you.

With a huff of shock at her own lack of manners Helen pulled the umbrella close, her eyes determined. Next time she saw him she would return the umbrella, say thank you, _and_ find out his name.

And she _would_ see him again. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did.

Until then, she would just have to be more careful crossing the road.

0~o~0

The first time he saw her, she nearly tripped over the hood of his car. Really, he should have just left her be and moved on but _no,_ he had to get out and stop her from falling. Worse, he gave her his umbrella.

In his line of work, getting close to anyone was a big 'no'.

Personal connections are weaknesses. He didn't have the luxury of having weaknesses.

But of course, fate seemed to have a different plan in mind, and he couldn't help but feel that this one meeting wouldn't be his last.

0~o~0

The second time Helen found him turned out to be a year later. Working as a secretary for some big name company and carrying a freshly made cup of tea up to her new boss, she bumped into him . . . literally.

"Oof!" she gasped and stumbled back, cup of tea overbalancing and splattering all over her black shoes and skirt.

A quick glance down had her groaning. Really, this was just her luck.

A large hand on her arm startled her, and she was suddenly dragged into a side closet with the door quickly closed. Helen opened her mouth to either demand that the other let her go or scream. Before she could, however, a callused finger rested on her lips in the clear 'shush' gesture.

Helen blinked in shock, biting back her words as she suddenly realized the situation she was in.

Or, rather, the rock hard chest that her back rested against and the arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her in place.

A dark blush spread over her cheeks, getting darker as the seconds passed without a sound. Swallowing her nerves and gathering her courage, she stiffened in preparation to give the man a verbal lashing. It doesn't matter how important you think you are you _do not_ just go dragging women into closets! It was . . . it was . . . scandalous!

Her voice died in her throat, though, as she heard the sound of her boss in the corridor outside, the brisk _rapping_ of his expensive shoes on tile unmistakable.

"What do you mean the shipment has been delayed?" the footsteps stopped just out side of the door and she felt the man behind her straighten slightly, attentive.

"Sabotage, are you sure?" there was a hint of panic in her boss's voice, and Helen figured he must be talking over the phone.

"You _fools!"_ the sudden enraged shout caused Helen to jump slightly. She'd never heard her boss so angry. "You _know_ that if our operation is discovered it could be the end of us!"

Another pause, then, "My secretary?" her boss growled, "No, she is being taken care of as we speak. She doesn't know anything about our little _secret,_ anyway."

His voice had calmed, but Helen felt her heart race.

 _She is being_ taken care of _._

Helen didn't want to consider what that meant, didn't want to acknowledge the horror the words filled her with.

"Worried? Why would I be worried?" another pause, "Ah, yes, I see. You are wondering if anyone will go looking for her. Don't bother, I chose her because she doesn't have anyone that will bother if she disappears. I did know that this would happen eventually, after all."

The arm around her waist was probably the only reason that Helen didn't collapse as her legs gave out from shock.

"Yes, I see. I will be on my immediately. Oh, and Jacques?" her boss's voice became the picture of politeness, "If the intruder makes it out of this building alive, it will be on your head."

The clicking of new, expensive shoes resumed and then faded away as her boss left, but Helen found she had no more strength to move on her own. Carefully, the man behind her adjusted his grip and she found herself leaning against the wall, shivering with her arms wrapped around herself.

A voice rumbled softly to her, and she barely made out the words in her shock. Now that her boss had left, her hyper attentive mind became sluggish with the thought of what might have happened to her. What might _still_ happen to her. The man spoke again, his hand resting on her shoulder gently, and she forced herself to focus. "You are the secretary, aren't you?"

Helen blinked through watery eyes – When had she started to cry? – and nodded as she looked up. The overhead light clicked on, blinding her for a moment, but when her vision cleared Helen found herself shocked again.

Blond hair, and deep blue eyes, eyes that she had started to think she would never see again.

She opened her mouth, to ask why he had left so quickly, ask his name, to say thank you . . .

"You're the intruder?" the words that blurted from her mouth made her squeak as her hands flung up to cover her lips. She hadn't meant to say that!

The man, too, didn't seem to expect that, but he shrugged and gave a bright smirk as he replied, "You could say that."

There was an awkward few moments where neither of them seemed to know what to say, but the man shook his head and stood straight, a serious expression crossing his face. "You need to leave this building."

Helen nodded and shifted on her feet, "Will I make it without . . ." _without being killed?_

He considered her for a moment before seeming to come to a decision.

"If you get to the roof, there is enough room between this roof and the next that you should be able to jump. There is a fire escape on the south side, facing away from the building where no one can see you if you clime down quickly," he paused and then reached into his pocket, bringing out a pen and small scrap of paper. Quickly, he wrote down a series of numbers. A phone number. "Get somewhere safe and then call that number. When asked say 'The Eagle sent me'. Do not go home to get anything; they might have the place you live at watched."

Helen gulped down the saliva clogging her throat and carefully took the paper, "What about you?"

His blue eyes didn't flinch from hers as he opened the door and turned off of the light above them, "I have a job to finish."

And just like that, he was gone.

Helen clutched the piece of paper to her chest like it was a lifeline.

It might as well have been.

0~o~0

"H-Hello?"

"Hello! This is the Royal and General Bank! How may I help you?" the chirpy voice on the other end of the line almost made Helen twitch as she huddled out of the wind in the small phone booth.

Royal and General Bank, huh? Well, that didn't seem out of the ordinary at all. Helen would have snorted if it weren't for the fact that she was freezing.

"I – um – T-The Eagle sent me?" Helen stuttered, fingers twirling the phone's wire between her fingers.

There was a pause on the other end, and it sounded like the chirpy lady was talking to someone. Then the woman's voice came back again, "Can you repeat that for me, sweaty? I seem to have heard wrong."

Wondering if she'd called the wrong number, Helen repeated the phrase, and there was hurried whispering on the other end. Just as she was about to hand up from exasperation, a new voice echoed over the line, cold and calculating.

"How do you know that phrase?"

Helen shivered again, but this time not because of the cold. Straightening she glared at the tinted glass of the phone booth.

"A man, Blond hair, blue eyes, gave it to me along with a phone number. He told me to call when I was in a safe area and that someone would help. I trust that I called the right place?" Her voice came out harsher than she expected, but her day had stretched her patients to the limit already.

"Alright, Miss Beckett," the voice replied, not a touch of emotion in its cold tone, but Helen felt a shiver run down her spin at the hidden threat. They knew her name. "Don't move from your position. A car will arrive in five minutes to pick you up."

And then the phone hung up, leaving only the background ringing. Silently, Helen hung the phone back into its rusted frame, slightly dazed.

What had she gotten herself into this time?

Exactly five minutes later a black car pulled up to the curb, and a man with blond hair stepped out of the passenger side. His eyes were covered with dark lenses and his arm seemed to be wrapped up in a sling, but she would recognize him anywhere.

The grin that he gave her didn't help as he said, "You made it!"

She crossed her arms and huffed, ignoring the wind as it picked up a forgotten newspaper and flung it past her. "You call ten feet 'not too far' to jump across?"

He shrugged, his grin not dimming in the slightest. "You did jump it, though."

The corner of her lip twitched, but she forcefully held back her amusement. Thankfully, they were interrupted before she could say anything else. A man with slightly darker hair but similar features poked his head out of the window. "Are you two going to get in the car or should I turn it off until you finish your flirting?"

This time the blond man's face was the one to flush first, "Shut up, Ian."

The other man, Ian, only smirked. "Just saying!" he sang and ducked back into the car.

The blond sighed and turned back toward Helen, "We really do need to get going." He stepped aside and opened the back door of the care, "After you, My Lady."

Helen didn't know why she got in the car with a man she didn't even know the name of, but she did.

The driver, Ian, pressed on the gas as they started moving forward. Helen glanced around the car, realizing that it was familiar for some reason. And then she realized.

"This is the car that I almost fell on!" she exclaimed in surprise.

Ian burst into laughter suddenly, and the blond man next to her turned a deeper shade of red.

"You never told me that you nearly ran her over, brother!" Ian gasped out, and Helen looked between the two in confusion.

The blond man cleared his throat with a slight cough and replied, "Yes, well, you never asked."

Ian burst into another gale of laugher and his brother turned to her abruptly, changing the subject, "It just occurred to me that you don't know my name." He held out his hand with a small smile and Ian stopped laughing in surprise, "I'm John Rider."

Helen eyed the hand and glanced up at his honest face. For a moment she hesitated, considering her options. For some reason this felt like a tipping point. She could refuse his hand, get out of the car, and flee the country. She could return to her normal life and never look back, never see him again.

Or she could take his hand and . . . and what? Go with him? Learn more about this mysterious man who's car she almost tripped over and who had saved her life when she least expected it?

Biting her lip, Helen realized that there had never really been an option. She grasped his large hand in her own and smiled slightly, "Hello, Mr. Rider. My name is Helen Beckett."

His bright smile told her she'd made the right choice.

"Oh!" she suddenly gasped, "I forgot to give you your umbrella back!"

This time both Ian and John laughed. After a few moments, she joined in too.

 **And how it all Ended**

 _16 months later . . ._

Helen cooed at the small, squealing bundle of joy in her arms as the baby waved its small fists in her face. Warm arms wrapped themselves around her waist and she turned to head to look at her husband with a happy smile.

"He's going to be just like you, isn't he?" she asked sweetly, "The perfect little gentleman."

John laughed and reached around her to tweak his son's nose, making the boy squeak in shock and cover his face with his uncoordinated arms and hands. "Well, I don't know about the gentleman part, but he sure got your courage."

Helen smiled sweetly as the doorbell rang. "That must be Ian. Could you go get it, Honey?" she requested, rocking her little boy back and forth.

John nodded and left the room. Helen carefully picked up the little baby bag that she had packed and followed him slowly, reflecting as she wandered through the house.

Just over two years ago her life had been in shambles. And now, well, she might say that this is the first time that she felt truly at peace. Yes, she knew that her husband wasn't telling her everything about his job, but that was fine. She understood.

She couldn't have been happier.

"Ah, this mush be little Alex!" Ian's voice echoed through the house as Helen walked into view. He smiled brightly as he leaned over the little bundle and made a face. Helen handed him over to his uncle with a laugh and Ian held her son up close to his face.

Little Alex stared back for a moment. Then, with perfect timing, burped, sending a spray of partly digested baby food running down the elder's suit. John laughed at his brother's shocked face as he carefully took the baby bag from his wife and handed it over. "You can see why I stopped wearing expensive clothing."

Ian snorted and eyed the perfectly happy baby warily while he took the bag. "I'll keep that in mind."

John and Helen said their last goodbyes to the two as they stepped out the door and to their fully packed car. A quick trip for about two weeks and then they would be back to greet their son.

For once Helen's intuition didn't warn her.

Or maybe she just didn't listen to it.

Two days later, Ian Rider received a call after being kept up all night by Alex screaming. Both John and Helen Rider's plane crashed. There were no survivors.

 **0~o~0**

 **I briefly though about writing a little more and adding on a little bit with Alex looking at the only surviving picture of his parents while wondering how they met, and then putting it away again because he knows that he will never really know. Everyone that could have told him is either gone or dead.**

 **That never happened, though, so you can all imagine how that would have gone instead.**

 **Please leave a review! If you would like to adopt a story idea from me since I am leaving please check out my profile for unwritten stories that you can use.**

 **Thanks again!**

 **Review!**

 **(Published: 7/31/2017)**


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